


Aphra Down

by liviay



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars: Darth Vader (Comics)
Genre: F/M, Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 15:06:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9240587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liviay/pseuds/liviay
Summary: During another sleepless night, Dr. Aphra is overwhelmed by doubts about her mysterious employer, the Sith Lord Darth Vader. But when she decides to take a walk through her ship, the Ark Angel, she hardly imagined what her next mission was going to be...





	1. Insomnia

**Author's Note:**

> Translation into italian available here, by [Tokoroth](/users/Tokoroth/pseuds/Tokoroth): https://efpfanfic.net/viewstory.php?sid=3748310&i=1

_"There's something about tall, dark and able-to-kill-me-guys that make a girl nervous..."_  

 

Aphra threw the blankets away from her comfortable bed, as if blaming them for the frustration that dominated her. She rarely experienced the luxury of a restful sleep, but ever since _he_  hired her, insomnia had finally set in. Rolling on the bed, more awake now than earlier, when she jumped at her bunk, she wondered what would lie beneath the sinister armor of her current employer. Annoyed, she also threw away the pillow, and watched as it hit the metal wall and heaped next to the pile of bedding already discarded. There was nothing left on the mattress now, except for the young archaeologist's naked, slender body.

Convincing herself that she would not fall asleep by force, she decided to return to the Ark Angel's cockpit. Watching the blue of hyperspace might be tedious enough to lull her to sleep, or at least to distract her. She haphazardly put on a long, weathered shirt, and left barefoot, wondering who or what was hiding behind that black mask. What creature would she find protected by that heavy machinery and the dark cloak? And she was _good_ at finding things, exceptionally good, but Lord Vader left no clue that Aphra could follow. All that time working for him - stars, _living_ with him! - and the good doctor hadn't been able to get even a small biological sample, a single strand of hair, nothing. Not even the voice that made her shudder was his own. Its robotic tone was heavily modulated by the helmet she'd never seen him take off.

Vader was a shadow, a mysterious apparition that seemed to have been born with the rise of the Empire, and speculating about his real identity consumed her. She spent her days in feverish alertness, wary of any evidence that might appear, living in an anxious and frantic state. And she knew the cause of her anguish was not the risks inherent to her work, neither the fear of being killed by her boss... it was something Aphra still could not fathom, but she was sure it was caused by him. It prevented her from falling asleep, thinking straight, or even turning to her usual obsessions ... but she was sure it was everything she had spent her entire life looking for. 

Heading for the Ark Angel's bridge, Aphra realized she could feel her employer even if they were not in the same room. Part man and part machine, he was like the soft rumble of her ship's engines, a constant mechanical, electrical presence. Yes, Lord Vader was like electricity, making every hair in her body rise up and the air around her crackle, brimming with some unknown and terrifying energy. Sometimes she heard his breath in the distance, as an omen of his arrival, the metallic noise strangely marking that there was flesh, blood, _man_ , after all. But most of the time he appeared as if he had just materialized behind her, and Aphra felt like she was about to get smothered by the hysterical beats of her own heart going mad in her chest, of fear and anticipation.

Just like that very moment, when she got to the cockpit and saw him sitting in the chair she intended to occupy. With his back to her, he seemed captivated by the hyperspace blur. _Does Vader suffer from insomnia?,_  she thought, perplexed. _Does he sleep at all?_ His huge body was a black stain at the center of the blue-lit chamber, and for the first time she thought of him like something mystical and ancient, as indecipherable as the devastating powers he used so often, the ones she delighted in contemplating. Aphra remained motionless, fearing that the smallest of gestures would break the spell of that moment. For a long time the only sound to rip the arcane silence was the monotonous respirator of her boss.

Everything seemed charged by that strange energy, bathed in static, and for a moment she doubted she was awake. The air smelled slightly of ozone. It was impossibly cold in the room, and she started to shiver, tingling all over. She should have dressed appropriately before leaving the room, but it was too late now. Trembling and half-naked, she did not know whether she should turn around, or join the enigmatic figure in front of her. When she finally decided to move, before she could even decide which way to go, Aphra realized that the immobility that held her in place was not at all voluntary. An invisible, irresistible force pinned her to the ground.

Aphra was sure he was going to kill her in the next few seconds. She tried to remember something she might have done wrong, any screw ups, but there were so many things... she closed her eyes tightly and waited for Lord Vader to stand up and walk towards her like a predator, only to pierce her faltering body with the red light saber he carried at his waist. She swallowed, realizing that if she knew any prayers, now it was a good time to plead with a deity.

But nothing happened.

Then, as if it never existed, the power that immobilized her dissipated, and she dropped to her knees on the floor, surprised and out of breath. Gasping, she felt the electrostatic repulsion intensify even further, until the hair at the top of her head began to rise slowly, as if she was touching an electrified metal sheet. She heard the noise of the respirator again, its mesmerizing rhythm closer than ever. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes.

The first thing she saw was her own frightened face reflected at the lenses on Darth Vader's helmet. He was reclining in front of her, one of his knees down on the floor as he stared at her, analyzing the girl. He made a gesture with his gloved hand, and she felt the same power again, but this time softer, lifting her up to her feet. Vader was taller than the archaeologist even though he was crouching. Nervously, Aphra ran a hand through her hair, lowering the creepy strands, trying to say some of her usual jokes, but she didn't know what to say. Vader finally got up, but countering any expectation she might had at that point, he did not leave the cockpit.

"You can take your seat now, doctor Aphra."

Without taking her eyes off him, she took a reeling step to the pilot's seat, and then stopped. The robotic voice had no inflection whatsoever she could use to come up with a clever reply, so she decided to be quiet just for a change. Without further thought, she pulled her shirt over her head, defying his Majesty Sir Darth Vader without any words. Nonchalantly, she tossed the crumpled piece of cloth at him, but it didn't not even touch Vader - the Sith Lord held it still in the air, and the sight of Vader using his precious Force brought a smile to Aphra's lips that soon became laughter.

Dying naked while challenging the most fearsome warrior in the galaxy seemed like a good way to die.


	2. Torpor

_"You... are even more interesting than I could have hoped, Sir Vader."_

 

Aphra's clothing hovered mid-air, the only obstacle between the smiling archaeologist and her peculiar boss. Part of her fear of being killed by the Sith lord had became this mad excitement, mixed with the girl's reckless petulance. She still laughed for a few more moments, her breasts swaying slightly with the movement of her chest, until the same intangible force that kept her clothes floating curled around her neck like a rope, its grip relentless. She had seen him doing this before to other victims, and the results were often fatal. Aphra brought her hands to her throat, but there was nothing she could grapple and try to fight back. The old shirt stood still between them, and Vader also remained motionless, his armor tinged slightly with the blue of hyperspace.

It was hard to swallow, impossible to speak, but after a while Aphra realized that the compression did not get any worse. Maybe Darth Vader was wondering what he should do with her, pondering if he was going to choke her to death, or slash her with his saber. She just gazed at him, her eyes foggy and half-closed, until at last he seemed to make a decision. He waved his hand and Aphra's shirt moved to the side without falling to the floor, and with a few rushed steps he was right beside her. His right hand, huge and hard as steel inside the black glove, took the place of the immaterial rope strangling her. Aphra tried to escape from his fingers, but it was in vain.

Lord Vader stared at her only a few inches away, and once again she saw herself reflected back at the filters that passed as his eyes.

"What do you think you're doing, Aphra?"

Maybe he sounded a little surprised. She pointed to her own throat using her tattooed arm, unable to speak. He loosened his grip.

"It was time," she started, her voice hoarse. She swallowed before continuing, "to offer you my... other services."

He took her by the shoulders and pushed her against the command chair, making Aphra sit down.

"I have no need for a prostitute."

She feigned some outrage, smiling again, rubbing her bruised throat.

"Hey, that's not what I meant... I would never charge you, boss!"

The shirt floated to Aphra and fell flat on her lap. She pushed it aside, to the floor, and rose from the chair. Lord Vader gestured and she was pushed back at the seat again.

"Do not test my patience", Vader growled with annoyance, his voice modulator betraying some emotion for the first time.

Aphra sighed.

"Okay, then. So I'm gonna do what I came here to do before I even knew you were seating in my favorite place."

And without waiting for an answer, the doctor opened her legs and touched the soft spot between them, the one hidden by a delicate triangle of dark hair, handling herself with a lot of skill and no shame at all. Her employer just watched her, and Aphra fantasized that under the black helmet he would be wide-eyed, gaping at her audacity. The rest of her body soon responded to the fondling, and she moaned softly, her eyelids fluttering shut, her head lolling against the back of the chair. With her free hand, she stroked one of her nipples, pulling it slowly between her fingers, hearing her own voice get more high-pitched and breathless, in contrast to Vader's unremitting respirator.

At the thought of the Sith lord, she opened her eyes once more, only to find him at the same place, standing against the transparent panel of the ship, framed by the flickering colors of hyperspace. She licked her lips, lifting one of her legs to open it as wide as she could, exposing her flesh as the most lustful Twi'lek at the seamiest brothel of the vilest system. Using her own wetness, she eased a finger inside herself, moving it in and out until it was gleaming. Slowly, she took it out and licked it, tasting the saltiness she already knew.

Aphra was taken aback by the effect it had on her boss. Before she could touch herself again, Vader stepped closer to her and bent down in front of the command chair, keeping the archaeologist's body in the same position using nothing but the Force. Without warning, he roughly slipped two of his own gloved fingers inside her, but there was no violence. His fingers were stiff like metal rods, and she understood they must have been prosthetics. That made her even more excited, although she couldn't comprehend why. Lord Vader didn't give the girl any time to think things through. He raised his other hand to her mouth and inserted a finger that Aphra obediently sucked, making her sure that this hand was prosthetic as well. He then used his slicky finger to deftly manipulate the little spot she had been stroking as her little private show to him.

The pressure exerted on her by the Force, _by Lord Vader himself_ , ensured that she remained immobile, quiescent, despite the urge to writhe with pleasure. She moaned louder now, feeling his hand move faster and faster against her pelvis. The obscene sounds of his glove sliding inside her seemed to echo throughout the cockpit. She utterly surrendered to that strange and mysterious machine-man, relishing each of his thrusts, waiting to fall apart as climax approached. But all of a sudden Lord Vader backed away from her, although Aphra barely had time to lament the emptiness he had left. Standing up, he picked her up almost immediately and laid her against the part of the control panel where there were no buttons and intruments - and even if there were any, she wouldn't have cared, knowing too well that she would gladly drift to the nearest star to melt in flames, as long as her boss didn't stop what he was doing.

She lifted her head to look at him, but with a gesture Vader made her lie down, using the Force against her neck one more time, but only with enough power to keep her still. He caressed her legs, bringing them to the panel and spreading them apart, the leather of his gloves glistening with Aphra's saliva and her intimate fluids. He let his hands wander up her belly until they reached her round breasts, her hard nipples. His touch had an unexpected gentleness, but Aphra was impatient, wanting him inside her again. Her mind roamed free, and she wondered if Lord Vader was... _anatomically correct_. Not that it mattered - she was sure they would find a way to amend this kind of issue.

Or maybe it wasn't an issue at all. She could not see it, but she sensed when he reached for something down his waistline. A moment later, Aphra felt ahard, cold and cylindrical object attempting to take the place of his fingers. She tried to lower her hands to touch it, but the Force held them firmly against the panel. She was at her employer's mercy, and he unhurriedly slid the thing inside her, and it was thicker than his fingers. She groaned, involuntarily twitching against the _device_. It had all these weird indentations and bulges, and Aphra had no doubt it was one of the most extravagant things to ever made its way inside her, and she had had her share of nonhuman creatures in bed. Lord Vader touched her again, increasing the speed of whatever he was using to fill her up, faster and deeper until Aphra's groans became sharp shrieks, and she realized that the thing plunging into her was nothing less than his light saber hilt. Surprised, she finally collapsed at the hands of the most feared man in the galaxy, trembling with the most erotic delight she had ever felt. 

He kept it going for a while, slowly, until she soflty begged him to stop, exhausted and breathless, her body damp with sweat. He released her and used the Force to lift her up, placing her seated on the panel. As if nothing had happened, Vader took the pilot's seat. While she stood there naked and ecstatic, her dark hair disheveled around her face, he had once again become the stoic machine. Even the saber had already returned to its usual place, hanging from his belt, and she blushed thinking that her liquids were now coating it. Aphra looked at the control panel of his armor, glaring silently at all those shiny buttons. Without facing Vader, the archeologist murmured:

"Your armor... is it removable?"

For a moment, his breathing was the only sound.

"In a way, yes." Vader ended up answering like his usual laconic self.

She bit her lower lip.

"I wanna do something... to please you, boss."

"That would require some..."

He stopped speaking in the middle of the sentence, jerking his head no more than an inch, as if he were thinking carefully about what to say. That seemed undoubtedly human to Aphra, perhaps even more than what they had just done. She blinked, and suggested a word.

"Planning, boss?"

"Yes, some planning", he agreed.

Doctor Aphra nodded and jumped off the panel. She picked up her clothing from the floor and got dressed in silence, opening her mouth only to yawn as actual sleep crept in. Vader turned his back to her, observing the colours of hyperspace, seeming to ignore her presence one more time. But Aphra did not care. She was good with machines, exceptionally good, and with men too. Now it was only a matter of time before she returned the favor Darth Vader had given her, and she was certain that would make it easier to know more about who was hiding under the black armor.

That night she slept like the an innocent child, and woke up only when Triple-Zero used a low-voltage shock right in her legs as an alarm clock.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I'm sorry for any mistakes. Hope you enjoyed this story.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for my poor english skills...


End file.
